Godspeak
by basalisk120
Summary: Riptide is one of the many hardy ponies that reside in the treacherous peaks far to the north of Equestria. But there's something different about him, and it will be very important in the years to come. Converges with the Steelhoof saga a lot later.
1. Chapter 1

It was a bitterly cold winter's day, although it was hard to differentiate it from every day of the year up in the Godsreach Mountains. The Godsreach was the tallest mountain range in the world, towering over the Canterlotians far to the south. Here, Thousands of meters above sea level, where the air was scarce and food even scarcer, where snow coved the land all year long, was a path few dared to tread. The ancient stone staircase was once known as the 'stairway to the heavens' but as of late, the winding, treacherous pathway had a more sinister reputation, what with the layers of ice and chilling winds. In fact, Nopony had been seen going up or down the stairway in over a hundred years.

If anypony wanted to live up there, they would have to be the toughest and hardiest animals in existence.

And they were. Little was known about these ponies, but they were renowned for their toughness and tolerance to extreme conditions. They could cope with extreme cold and altitude that would bring many a pegasi to their knees. They lived in secluded settlements, constantly battling for supremacy over what little resources they could get their hands on.

Halgath was no different. It was a small village, about a dozen wooden houses surrounding a single longhouse, the communal meeting place and home of the thane. It lay in a mostly open area, just below the ridge between two mountains. The winding stairway was more than a league away, and the nearest village was even farther, making them relatively safe from attack.

They were not, however, safe from the elements. A gale force wind tore through the village, carrying snow and knife-like cold with it. Shutters were barred shut, and loose boards rattled in the wind.

In the longhouse, five figures stood, three on one side of the roaring fire in the centre of the room, two on the other.

One the side closest to the large double doors stood a powerfully built stallion, with a square jaw and a small scar on his cheek. Like all the ponies of the Godsreach province, he had thick, shaggy fur the colour of his mane around his wrists and ankles, the surefire way to identify one from a crowd of ponies. His cutie mark was that of a pickaxe. Standing next to him was a mare, lean but strong, pale of coat but with a darker mane, like many Godsreach ponies. In front of them, and facing the fire, was Riptide. A young colt at the age of six, it was already clear that he would never quite reach the size of his father, even though he would still be large. His coat was a light, nutty brown, and his mane was the colour of chocolate, if such luxuries had existed in the mountains. His eyes were the colour of sapphires, and he stood tall but nervous before the figures opposite him.

They were a pair of Stallions, each just as large as his father, easily recognisable as the thane's advisor on the left, and the village doctor on the right. The doctor leaned forward, his feather-strewn braids swaying about his ears.

"Now, we must ask you, one more time, to say something. Anything at all, but say something."

Riptide was now six years old, and had never uttered a word in his life. Everypony was worried, most of all his parents.

The doctor turned to them. "I'm afraid if he is not intelligent enough to speak, then we may have to re-evaluate his position in Halgath. I'm sorry."

Snowflakes falling, Riptide's mother, had tears running down her face.

Stone shod, his father, was wearing an unreadable mask, unwilling to show any emotion, especially in front of a mare, even if she was his wife.

"Please son, just try to say something." Snowflakes said, fear in her eyes. Riptide looked back at her frantically, worried for his mother.

"Now, son." His father's deep voice was stern, but he could sense the worry behind it.

Again, Riptide opened his mouth and strained, but nothing came out. He tried and tried, until a vein appeared in his forehead, but still not a peep. The doctor frowned disappointedly.

"I see. Mr Stone shod, Mr Anvil? Will you come with me to the back room? I think we need to discuss this at length." His father and the Advisor nodded, and they made slowly for the back room. There was silence in the longhouse save for the crackling of the fire. However, just as they drew close to the room, Riptide felt a spark in the back of his mind, and a fire in his throat. In surprise, he opened his mouth, and the energy exploded outward.

"**NO!**" He shouted. But it was more than just a shout. It was a surge of power, racing forward with a bluish tinge, putting out the fire in an instant, surging through it and continuing onwards to the ponies at the other end, staggering his father and dashing the doctor and advisor against the far wall. He immediately clapped his hooves to his mouth, and cowered to the floor. _What did I just do? _He thought to himself.

Dazed, the three stallions stood back up, not seriously injured, but scattered with ashes and charcoal from the fire. The doctor galloped over to him, closely followed by his father and then the advisor.

"You!" He shouted. "Do that again!"

The young colt looked pleadingly at his mother, who's eyes darted between that of her child, the doctor and her dazed husband. Finally, she broke the silence by saying:

"What in the name of the gods was that? What is wrong with my son?" She looked distraught, and the doctor took a step toward her.

"I am unsure at present, but I believe he may have been blessed – but it may also be a curse. I think your son has the power of the Godsong."

"T-the godsong?"

"Yes. His voice holds truly incredible power, and he may even be able to speak the words the angels use to shape the universe. However, it cannot be stopped."

"Do you mean that…?"

"Yes. Unfortunately I do. Every sound he utters will have uncontrollable destructive power.

Behind them, Riptide uttered a small squeak of fear. The sound, although quiet, seemed to echo around the room, and the force of his voice smashed straight through the floor of the longhouse, cracking the sturdy foundation and shaking the whole building slightly. The faint blueness that accompanied the sound dissipated slowly.

The doctor turned to the advisor. "Quickly, get the thane. He will want to hear about this." He then turned to Riptide's stricken parents. "Can he write?"

Stone shod nodded warily.

"Good. I'm afraid that is the only way he will be able to communicate, lest he kills us all by accident."

**Yes, I'm sure the more eagle eyed readers amongst you might notice a few similarities between this story and Skyrim, and to be perfectly honest, some of the inspiration came from there. But that's as far as it will go. This is NOT a crossover, nor will it even remotely follow the storyline of Skyrim. Riptide is a character I've been thinking about for a while, and I'd rather not have anypony tell me I'm ripping off anything. Also, Riptide will never say Fus Roh Daah. Just saying. He will have some relevance later, but it's nothing to do with killing dragons or anything of the sort.**

**Sorry for making you read my ramblings, I just had to get it out in the open now. As always, please give me any and all criticisms you might have.**


	2. Chapter 2

Riptide looked at his mother hopefully. He was now twelve years of age, and the years had been good to him. He had grown lean and strong on the demanding labour, and his health was good. His cutie mark, that of blue wisps on a white mist, flickered in the torchlight of their home. In his right hoof, he held a note asking to be allowed out for the afternoon.

His mother smiled. "When you have finished your duties, Riptide. Have you?"

Riptide debated lying for a moment, but in the small town, any dishonesty did not hide for long. He shook his head sadly, blue eyes drifting toward the floor.

"Well get them done, then. And then you may have the afternoon off."

Riptide nodded and stepped outside into the summer air. It was below freezing, as it remained all year, but like all of his fellow ponies, he had grown accustomed to the temperature, and barely noticed as his breath swirled about his face.

He had been asked to take the firewood to the houses, and that was what he would do. He piled all of the wood onto a small sled and dragged it through the snow, the thick wooden runners straining against him as they cut groves into the white surface. Twice he had to stop himself from grunting, and once he let out a pant, and cleared nearly three feet of snow in front of him. He begrudgingly tipped the logs in the storesheds next to all the houses, and trudged slowly back to the longhouse where the sled and firewood was kept. It was not that he did not enjoy helping other ponies, quite the opposite in fact, but he had a new idea and was itching to try it out.

He did not intend to use his free time to socialise with others their age, as the only three other children in Halgath mistrusted his power just as much as all of the other ponies. No, instead of spending time with ponies who disliked him, he was going to do something much more exhilarating.

After he finished, he rushed back to tell his mother that he was done, and that he would be back in time for the evening meal. And with that, and without informing his mother what he was doing or where he was going, he left the town and headed for the hike up to the peak of the mountain they were clinging to. The trip was at least an hour in blizzard conditions, but it was well worth the effort for what he was about to do.

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In a remote ridge to the west, a large clump of bushes sheltered from the elements behind a rocky outcrop. There was a minute movement, and a small, light grey muzzle appeared from inside the bush and plucked a few white berries from a nearby branch. There was more movement, and the muzzle disappeared and a small face accompanied it the next time it returned, two brilliant green eyes staring warily out at the world from beneath an untamed blonde mane and standing out against a light cream, almost white coat. The face became a head, which soon became a small pony, barely out of fillyhood, stepping silently out of the undergrowth. She was seriously pretty, even if it appeared that she had not eaten properly in her life. There was a slightly unusual look about her face, which along with her small frame, belied her parentage. She was a hinny, driven out of her hometown for her appearance as her father was put to death for adultery. She shuddered slightly and moved on, picking her way delicately over the rocky terrain.

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Riptide reached the plateau at the peak of the mountain. The peak was desolate and bare, a few tufts of grass being the only other life forms in sight. He walked over to the edge, and the majesty of the mountain range was before him. He opened his voice, trying to stoke his vocal chords into life after so long. He was going to sing. And not just anything, he was going to sing. And not just anything, he was going to sing the words that came into his head, not bothersome, but there if he searched. They were not of any language he knew, and he had never heard them aloud. Until now. He faced west, and cleared his throat. Although quiet, the sound rumbled slightly and the familiar surge of power flowed from his throat. Anxiety struck him, and he almost backed down. But he needed this. He needed to release it, all of it, cleanse his system. Speaking with notes was safe and easy, but it presented a unique challenge for him. All of the time, there was a constant urge to open his mouth and shout as loud as he could, and keep shouting forever. He had resisted, until now.

He took a step forward and opened his mouth.

With a wall of sound, his voice broke free of all the years of hiding, and burst forth from his mouth. The blue wisps were now thick bands of power, swirling and flowing through the air, which blurred slightly with the power. His voice, although loud, was not carried far, and only flew west, where there was no civilisation for miles and miles.

Despite not being anywhere near the focus of the blast, the rock at his hooves cracked with the sheer destructive power.

The song flowed out of him for what seemed like forever to him, the strange tongue forming flowing sentence after flowing sentence, building up into a crescendo that tore at his throat and burned his lungs. Finally spent, he slumped to the floor, panting heavily as the destructive force slowly dissipated.

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The small white hinny trotted slowly across a snow drift, not even leaving a single hoofprint with her expert stride.

Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks.

She could hear something, quite unlike anything she had ever heard before. It was certainly not any of the indigenous wildlife, for she knew almost all of them and if it was, she likely would have heard the sound before.

This however, had rhythm, tune, almost like… music. She did not understand or even recognise the words, but she felt oddly drawn to the source of the sound, miles away on the peak of a distant mountain. Without any consideration that this might be a wight or some other spirit luring her to her death, she began to make her way toward the sound. Regardless, short of surviving, she had nothing else to do, and she could do that on the way. She changed her course east, toward the direction of the song.


	3. Chapter 3

The small white filly awoke with a start. She had sheltered under a small, hardy shrub and the snow was coming in over the barricade she had made out of the white powder, and threatened to bury her alive if she didn't leave quickly. Panicked, she scrambled out of the temporary den with a frightened squeak.

She lay panting for a moment as the snow fell, and quickly stood up and shook herself off. Long periods of time in the open, even in a blizzard, were dangerous.

The snow let off after a couple of hours, but the chill wind remained, forcing the hinny to take cover in snow drifts as she made her way slowly toward the source of the strange sound.

She was intensely hungry, as she always was, but she had a huge advantage over any other pony alone in the mountains. She had knowledge far exceeding that of almost anypony when it came to surviving the wilderness, and before long she was able to identify the tiny lumps in the snow behind a snow drift that marked a kind of tuber that, although not delicious, had a distinct nutty taste and filled a pony's stomach quickly.

She dug at the bulges, quickly finding the frozen ground, which she tore open with a rock, and pulled out the tubers with her teeth. She ate them greedily, making sure not to eat the poisonous stems and leaves.

She buried the leftovers again, smoothing over the snow so as to stop anything from tracking her too easily.

She moved on quickly, travelling across a large mountain ridge out of the wind. Even so, the path was a rarely used animal track and was slippery this time of year, and she had to be especially careful so as not to fall onto the rocks below. She made her way across the treacherous ground without slipping for she had years of experience out in the wild, despite only being twelve years old. She crossed the ridge, and buffeted by the wind started to climb a small hill toward a mountain that would need to be scaled if she wanted to make it to the source of the sound. The climb would likely be difficult, but it was not something she hadn't done before, and she felt up to the task. However, when she crested the hill, she saw something that caused her to stop dead in her tracks.

There was a large footprint, blurred because of the snowfall, in the ground in front of her. Even partially covered, it was unmistakeably that of a troll. Darting her head left and right, to make sure she was alone on the hilltop, she bent down and took a deep sniff of the print.

Recoiling in disgust, she realised she was in the worst possible place. The air around the footprint was heavy with the thick, pungent musk that male trolls gave off during mating season. The troll was going to be patrolling this area, enraged by instinct, and almost inescapable for the small mare.

She galloped over to the nearest rocky crag and started to climb. If she was going to survive, she needed to change how she smelled. Trolls had poor eyesight, and relied almost entirely on scent to find their prey. As a result, she needed to make sure that she not only didn't smell of prey, she also needed to smell of something that trolls detest. It took some searching, but before long she found it, growing out of a small gap in the rock face. It was a fairly large plant, and it's leaves disrupted trolls' digestive systems, so their powerful scent dissuaded most trolls from the area. Working quickly, the young hinny started snapping off twigs and placing them in her mane and tail.

When she had about twelve or so, she carefully hopped back down to the ground and continued on her way, albeit cautiously. Several times she thought she heard the distant howling shriek of a hunting troll, and she walked slowly, keeping to the shadows, making sure that it was not her being hunted.

It was not until three hours later, when she heard a roar of triumph being carried across the mountains to the east that she finally relaxed. Still, she walked much more carefully than she normally would, drawing out her journey even more.

She made sure she was well out of the troll's territory before she began to walk at a normal pace, pulling the itchy pieces of vegetation out of her mane and tail, burying them under a shallow layer of snow. Then she stopped, looking upwards at the hardest part of her journey.

A tall mountainside stood before her, covered in sharp-looking bare rocks. This was the only way to scale it, difficult though it was, and the wind was still buffeting all around her. She considered waiting until the wind died down, but a quick glance to the skies dispelled that thought almost immediately.

She could see, out in the distance, but moving steadily toward her, a huge storm. It would arrive in a few days, and the wind would not clear before then. After it had passed, the rock face would be so coated in snow and ice it would be unusable for weeks, by which point whatever it was might have moved on.

She debated simply giving up for a moment, and returning to the wilder areas of the Godsreach, and considered it for several minutes, before shaking her head and staring intently at the mountain. This was something she felt she needed to do. Had she fully understood or believed in the concept of fate or destiny, that is how she would have felt about this. At the very least, it would give her something to do, and maybe help her find an area with a greater abundance of food.

"You can do this." She said to herself in her small, soft voice. Despite its lack of conviction, it steeled her resolve and gave her an extra glimmer of confidence.

She gulped and approached the cliff face.

With a final glance toward the ground, which might be meeting her in slightly more painful terms soon, she began to climb up the rocky surface.

Hoof after hoof she climbed, fighting the wind on every step, using each small ledge as a quick rest. It was one such ledge that she found a small shrub, sheltering from the weather behind a wall of rock. She ate this unfulfilling lunch hungrily, and decided to rest here for a short while, about five hundred feet off the ground.

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Riptide practically bounded down the path back to the village, a giddy smile plastered on his face.

_I did it! I sang, and I didn't hurt anypony!_ His elation of this revelation mixed with the utter relief of clearing his system. The urge to shout had dropped considerably, and despite the pain in his throat, he felt happy and warm inside.

He did his best to compose himself as he approached his home, a small wooden cottage with Stone supports. A thin tendril of smoke rose slowly from the chimney on the left of the building, and a warm glow shone through the closed shutters.

Suitably calm, he walked inside.

His mother stood in the kitchen area, standing on her hind legs and leaning on the worktop. As he walked inside, she turned to face him. She saw who it was, and smiled warmly at him.

"Hello, dear. Had a nice time?"

Riptide nodded, smiling slightly.

"So, what did you get up to?"

Riptide thought for a second, coming up with a suitable excuse. He quickly scribbled a note that said:

_I went for a walk._

She frowned at him. "Honey, you know I don't like you wandering about out there…"

_It's fine. I know what I'm doing._

"No you don't, Riptide. I worry about you."

_You needn't. I'm perfectly safe. Besides, trolls don't come down this way anymore anyway._

"That's not the point, Riptide! Something could happen to you!"

_I could always use my voice…_

"You know I don't like you using your voice…"

_But what if it could keep me safe?_

"Well… It's just that… Alright, fine. You win this time. But please only use it if you really have to, okay?"

Riptide nodded, smiling slightly.

She smiled back. "Dinner will be ready when your father gets back."

He nodded again and walked down the hall into his room.

It was small and cosy, with just a bed and a small bedside table. On the bedside table, there was a single candle and a small circular metal plate, a constant reminder of his future. He'd been given it on his eleventh birthday, as was the tradition. When his father died, the ancestral family Shoulder plate would be passed onto him, its plate, which described the life of the previous owner, removed and buried with him. Instead, his would be put in its place, and he would have to fill it with his own accomplishments.

He looked away from it hurriedly, unwilling to accept his future just yet.

Instead, he flopped down onto his bed, lying on the sheets and staring at the wall.

_I did it._ He thought to himself. _I really did it. My whole life, not even allowed to hum a tune, and now I've sung and it was amazing! I only wish I knew what I was singing…_ This was the first time since he sang that he actually contemplated this. The meaning of the words in his head might actually be quite useful for something.

He was so deep in thought that he seemed even more subdued than normal at dinner, an attribute not helped by his inability to talk. He went to bed soon afterwards, still feeling drained after his song.

That night he dreamt of shouting for so long that he lost all of his powers. The next morning, he couldn't decide whether it was a good dream or not.

**Finally, a Godspeak chapter of acceptable length! I hope you liked it!**


	4. Chapter 4

Riptide made his way up the rarely used mountain path to the rocky crag he knew and loved. It had been two weeks since his first song, and he had ventured up the mountainside four times since, only stopping when a bad storm hit the area and the whole village had to stay indoors, for fear of being swept off their precarious position on the mountainside. But now, the storm had cleared, and Riptide could once again make the trek up the mountainside.

Letting out all this pent up energy was certainly doing him some good, and it was starting to get noticed. The first to notice was his mother, who saw the most of him anyway. Next was his father, and soon after was the rest of the village that actually cared. To be honest, Riptide personally believed that they only really cared because he was a serious threat, but it was nice that they did, no matter what the reason.

Truth be told, Riptide had started to become quite depressed recently. Until he'd found his relief from the constant pressure in his chest, it was a constant worry to him, that he'd just lose control like the first time he'd spoke. His voice had become significantly more powerful since then. Also, as much as he hated to admit it, he was lonely. The other foals (If you could call any of them that – ponies had to age fast in the Godsreach) didn't really like him, and the adults were either too preoccupied or simply too uninteresting to spend any time with. As a result, he felt as if he didn't really have anypony around him.

Now, he was a different pony. He smiled as he walked around the village, and he walked with a spring in his step. His parents were curious about what he was doing and why it was making him so cheerful, but they didn't press the issue.

His thoughts returned to the present as he strode toward the top of the mountain, where the small rocky plateau awaited him. The sky was clear and blue, with a couple of could wisps that floated about without a care in the world. It was still bitterly cold, but it felt that much warmer.

He crested the peak of the mountain with a smile on his face, and strode quickly to the edge of the plateau that gave him such a magnificent view of the landscape. He opened his mouth, and let his voice flow free.

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The small white hinny woke with a start. She looked around quickly at the cave she had found a few days before. She looked outside, where the sound she had come so far to hear was coming from.

She had stayed awake for more than two days waiting for the sound, so had slept on until past midday. Now, she was panicked, trying to stand and make her way to the source of the sound.

She galloped up the rocky slope up to the plateau, upon which she had identified something's repeated presence, that she assumed was the one making the sound. What she saw surprised her.

There was a colt standing at the peak of the mountain, singing in an otherworldly tongue to the heavens themselves. Bursting forth from his mouth were thick blue lines that curled and flowed in the air, which seemed to hum and vibrate with power. The colt himself seemed close to her age, a rich, nutty brown coat and a mane the colour of the trunk of a fir tree. Her head cocked to one side curiously, and she felt compelled to investigate, despite her fear of approaching the young stallion.

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Riptide sighed, his song finished and his energy spent. He looked down at the ground for a few seconds, panting and regaining his strength.

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The small filly crept silently up on the colt from his left, thinking of what to say. In her concentration, she failed to look at her footing.

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Suddenly, there was a sound to his right, and he turned, and a sound escaped his mouth in surprise. In a flurry of snow, a figure that seemed to resemble a small white pony was sent tumbling away from him, squeaking in fear and surprise. Instantly, he regretted his outburst, and shrank back as the pony scurried behind a nearby rock, peering out at him with intense emerald-coloured eyes, laden with fear and suspicion.

Something about her just made him want to run over, cuddle her and tell her everything was okay. Of course, this was impossible in at least two ways, so he kept his distance. He grabbed his writing plate in his teeth, and laid it on the bare rock surface. He took out his charcoal, and quickly wrote:

_I am so so sorry… I can't help it… that's what happens when I talk…_

She looked at the plate curiously, and took a step forward, out from behind the tree. Immediately, Riptide's eyes widened. She was a little mare, smaller than him, although she looked quite close to him in age. She had a definite cuteness to her soft features, despite the fact that she'd clearly never eaten a full meal in her life. The mark on her flank looked like a small campfire, but the flames were rich green leaves. Once out in the open, her stance was similar to that of a hunted animal and peered at the words as closely as she dared while still keeping her distance.

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The small hinny stared intently at the words, trying to make sense of them. Then, from some hidden recess of her mind, a dim ability to read filtered into her mind. She cocked her head at him, and for the second time that week, she spoke.

"W-why's that?"

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He beamed at her reply. He took back the plate and rubbed off the message, and wrote a new one.

_I'm… not really sure. I just can't. It's called the godspeak or something. I don't really talk much…_

"Umm… well… you have a nice voice…" The small mare said, her cheeks tinged pink.

_Really? You think so?_ Riptide wrote, blushing slightly himself.

_So… what village do you belong to?_

At this, the mare seemed to panic slightly, and took a small step back.

"I… I don't come from any village…"

_You live out here? By yourself?_

She nodded.

_Wow. How long?_

"My… my whole life…"

His eyes widened, and he cast his mind back to her mark. It must be that of a survivalist. _It must be lonely, out here. Do you… want to come back to my village?_

She took another step back, shaking her head furiously. "N-no… I can't… everypony hates me…"

_Why?_

"Because I'm… because I'm…" She them murmured something incomprehensibly.

_Why? What are you?_

"I'm a… hinny…" She winced, and took a step back, expecting fear, or maybe hate. This pony was a serious threat, even a conversation could kill her. Instead, he simply stood, looking at her confusedly.

_You don't look at all what I imagined…_

"What do you mean?"

_I… don't worry. My village isn't much like that. We don't really get hinnies at all in Halgath, but we don't discriminate much. _He wrote, putting his father's words out of his mind for the time being. He was never very accepting of anything.

"I… I don't think I can…"

_I promise, I won't let anything happen to you._

She wanted to trust him, even though she couldn't understand why. Maybe she could… If he had promised to protect her… She doubted anypony would dare to argue with a voice like that…

Slowly she nodded. "Maybe I could… It's been such a long time…"

Riptide smiled all the way to his ears. Some part of him really didn't like seeing her so wild and threatened, alone in the mountains.

_My name is Riptide. What is yours?_

The smaller mare pawed at the ground slightly, looking down and blushing. "I don't… I don't really have one…"

His eyebrows raised in surprise.

_You don't have a name?_

"…No."

Riptide thought to himself for a moment.

_Can I give you one?_

Her brow furrowed in thought.

"I… I don't see why not…"

_Can I call you Snowy?_ He wrote, looking at her near-pristine white coat.

"Okay…"

He smiled. _Thank you…_

"No, thank you… for naming me." She smiled slightly. "Even if it's nothing much…"

_It's fine. I'm glad you like it. _

"I do…"

_So, do you want to come down to the village? It's not far from here…_

"Do you promise that nopony'll try to hurt me?"

He placed his furred hoof to his chest as he placed his plate before her.

_You have my word._

She smiled again softly.

"Okay then… I haven't met anypony in so long…" She walked over to him and touched her grey muzzle to his shoulder lightly. "Let's go…"

Riptide nodded dumbly, his arm tingling slightly at the touch. He gave his most welcoming smile and directed her toward the path down to Halgath.

Together they made their way toward the town, largely in silence due to Riptide's inability to write whilst walking. However, he had learnt a few things about the little mare. She was around his age, having seen the same number of winters. She'd kept mostly quiet about herself, saying only that she'd heard his voice many miles away, and had made her way there. From the indifferent way she described the frankly harrowing journey, it was clear that she'd lived a meagre existence. Once again, he'd felt the need to hug her, to comfort her. When he asked why she'd risked so much just to investigate somepony's singing, she said only that it'd 'seemed right to do so.'

He secretly wandered to himself if the goddess had anything to do with the frankly bizarre circumstance of their meeting.

You could see the heavens themselves, sometimes. On a cloudless night, you could see the vivid swirl of colour that lit up the sky. Everypony knew it was the angels, running the world below them.

It was getting dark by the time they made it back to the village, and it was bathed in a warm orange glow from the houses who had yet to close their shutters for the night.

Snowy was visibly shaking, and Riptide was positive it had nothing to do with the temperature. Hesitantly he put his hoof on her small shoulder, and looked at her with his best _are you sure you're okay?_ Look.

"I'm… just scared, is all. I've… not been to a village like this in so long…"

He took his hoof off and whipped out his writing equipment.

_It's okay. I made a promise. _And then, he added: _I promise, if anypony so much as looks at you the wrong way, I will shout at them until they wish they'd never been born._

He felt even more protective toward the little hinny the closer they got to the village, and he almost felt as if he was leading her into danger.

She seemed more comforted by this, and they walked even closer, with Snowy almost close enough to be touching him, although still tense enough to disappear into the snow at a moment's notice. Riptide noticed this, but didn't mention it as they walked into town.

The productive hours over, the village was deserted as they walked through it, heading for Riptide's house.

He turned back to her, and wrote a quick note.

_I'm sure you'll love my mother, Snowflakes falling. She's a lovely pony, and the kindest in the village. You might want to stay out of the way of my dad, Stone shod, though, he can get… angry sometimes. They say he's got bezerker blood or something… I don't know._

_No matter what, I won't let anything bad happen. Okay?_

She read the note fairly quickly, and although looking even more nervous, she nodded, swallowing.

He flashed her a smile, and opened the door.

His mother was the first to notice.

"Oh, hello dear! You're back even later than usual! Dinner's on the table."

Clearly, Snowy was hiding behind him.

Not wanting to leave her outside, or beat around the bush for too long, he decided to simply go ahead and say it. As quick as he could, he retrieved his writing plate and began writing a note with his teeth.

_I found somepony in the snow today, up in the mountains. I said it was okay for her to come to the village…?_

Snowflakes stared at the message for a few seconds in disbelief. Random ponies wandering about were very rare, and were usually male, disgraced warriors or bandits.

"Well, let's see her then! I'm sure she'd rather talk to me directly, rather than through you.

_Okay, but she's rather shy… One second._

He turned around, and there she was, hiding herself outside, cowering back from the open door. He gave her his softest and most understanding look, and wrote:

_Please, just come inside. It's lovely and warm, and you can have some dinner. It'll be okay._ She shakily nodded, and walked slowly to the door, with some encouragement.

Hesitantly, she walked into the doorway, staring intently at the wooden floor. She turned back to Riptide, who gave her a smile that said: _you're going to be okay…_ He looked up slowly at Riptides mother, keeping her eyes slightly averted.

"Oh, my! Aren't you simply adorable!" His Snowflakes cooed, immediately shifting into motherhood mode. "You simply must come inside!"

Snowy took another step, and Riptide gently closed the door behind her. She didn't seem scared much by the enclosed space, and the warm glow of the hearth seemed to put her at ease slightly.

Snowflakes called into another room. "Stone, you simply must see who Riptide's brought to the village!"

At the mention of his name, the little mare immediately stiffened and was set back on edge. Riptide gave her a comforting nudge, and stayed by her side as the larger stallion stepped into the kitchen.

He looked at her quizzically, followed by suspicion, and then with growing surprise. In a low voice he growled.

"That's a hinny, that is. You can tell by the shape of its face."

"_Her_ face, Stone." Snowflakes said gently. "Don't be unkind, you haven't even spoken to her."

"I don't need to. That's a hinny, Snowflakes."

Snowy was visibly shrinking at this point, and Riptide was worried that she'd bolt if his father so much as moved in her direction.

"Yes she is, and she's just as much a pony as the rest of us, if in heart rather than blood."

The large stallion frowned darkly.

She continued. "Stone, we are an accepting town, and she is our guest. Try to be more accommodating…"

Stone shod relented angrily. "Fine. I'll be eating in the bedroom tonight." And with that, he stormed out of the room. Snowflakes turned to the cowering Snowy.

I am terribly sorry my dear, but he is frightfully stubborn. Are you okay?"

"I… I… guess so…"

Snowflakes smiled. "I never caught your name, miss…?"

"Snowy." She said in a quiet voice. "R-riptide named me… because I didn't have one before…"

"Well, it's good to see that you have one now, and it suits you well. How long have you been out there, in the wilds?"

"Oh… all my life, really…"

Her eyes widened in shock. "Your whole life? Really? My, that is surprising. I don't suppose you've had a hot meal in a long time, then?"

"H-hot meal?"

"It's nothing special, really. Just a nice stew. But I'm sure you'll like it… At least I hope so. It's not often I get to cook for guests…"

The little mare was looking completely out of her depth by this point, and looked thoroughly confused. Riptide flashed her a smile, and sat her down at the table.

"I'm afraid I wasn't really expecting a visitor, so Riptide, I'm going to have to half yours. Alright?"

He nodded. He wasn't that hungry anyway, and he wanted to be as accommodating as possible.

His mother placed two steaming bowls of broth in front of them, and took a third off into the hall, saying:

"I'm just going to put some blankets down in your room for Snowy, dear. I'm terribly sorry we don't have a spare bed."

"…Bed?" Snowy asked quietly, and Riptide wrote:

_Ponies sleep on them._

She nodded in understanding, and Riptide motioned toward the stew with his head, smiling.

She bent over and stuck her nuzzle in the hot liquid, burning her tongue and nose. She reared back in disgust, her nose wrinkled and her eyes tightly shut. Riptide suppressed a chuckle, and wrote a new note.

_Be careful, it's hot._ He handed her the spoon that had been next to her bowl, and took his own, eating a spoonful of stew.

She copied his motion, and smiled as the hot liquid ran down her throat.

"This is… really nice…"

He smiled at her and ate another spoonful. It was very nice, and Riptide slightly regretted not having more as he finished the bowl. Snowy finished hers not long after, and they decided to turn in for the night.

They made their way into Riptide's bedroom with Snowy in the lead, still being encouraged by Riptide.

After a moment's consideration, he lead the small white filly to his bed, and lay down on the blankets laid out for her. It just seemed to be the right thing to do.

It felt strange, watching somepony else snuggle between his blankets, especially the little hinny he'd only met a few hours ago. Still, at least he had a true friend at last. He snuggled into the blankets laid out for Snowy and watched her as she fell asleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
